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Hué (1969)


Ty, home in a box.

They told us about

the jungle, not

the concrete

of Hué City.

Your last day,

spent among ruins

like Berlin in forty-five,

among sniper’s nests,

not palms and rice.

Your sweetness lost,

no more glances

in gym class showers

or wrestling in the dark.

Flinching at shots

over your casket,

I wish, of all things,

that you could have found

your way back,

found your way

to love.

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